


Quenched

by notmeagain



Series: Thirsty [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: Actually this is best friends to lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, More like thirsting but sure, Pining, appropriate use of twitter, kind of sorta super crack, the unexpected sequel/prequel literally no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 06:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmeagain/pseuds/notmeagain
Summary: Clark Kent writes thirst tweets. Or how Drunk Clark makes the best decisions.





	Quenched

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Quenched](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17540072) by [Fiona0707](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiona0707/pseuds/Fiona0707)



> HERE IS THE THING NO ONE ASKED FOR! MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL OR HAPPY HOLIDAYS OR JUST 25TH OF DECEMBER TO YOU!

Clark Kent was being carried, bridal style, up to his apartment by Bruce Wayne. He was dressed in someone else’s clothes and was clinging to Bruce happily-- rubbing his face into the other man’s collar.

“Stop squirming,” Bruce growled readjusting his grip.

Against better judgement, Clark did not stop squirming.

This may be because Clark was drunk. He was very drunk. Severely intoxicated.

Some would even say he was _super drunk._

Superman was super drunk.

Clark giggled. Of course, he was! He was _super_ everything!

“I’m Superman!” he chortled into Bruce’s neck. He nuzzled some more.

Bruce groaned as he started on another flight of stairs.

“Live in a ten-floor walk-up,” Bruce complained. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“It isn’t a walk-up,” he said.

“It is when the elevator never works.”

Clark giggled again. Bruce was _so_ funny. Then he was distracted by Bruce’s muscles. Gosh Bruce was great. He was so strong too.

“Why are you so fucking happy?” Bruce sounded very irate.

Clark idly wondered why.

Bruce sighed and readjusted his grip on him again. He wanted to let his hands roam down Bruce’s chest and arms. He bet Bruce had very firm muscles. But somewhere along the way, what he wanted to do and what he actually did were very different things.

“Are you pinching me?” Bruce asked with disbelief.

Clark sighed dreamily and sniffed Bruce.

“Clark,” Bruce said in his very stern voice. “Did you just sigh? Are you sniffing me?”

“No.” Clark was deciding whether or not to lick Bruce for good measure. He smelled so nice; it would make sense that he tasted good too.

“I told you not to go fight the weird alien poacher alone,” Bruce scolded. “But you just had to go and then get sprayed by a pink goo and now you’re drunk.”

“Hehe, goo.”

“Better drunk than dead, I suppose.”

“Goo’s a funny word. Right, Bruce?” He kept on giggling.

“At least you’re not a sad drunk,” Bruce grumbled. Then groaned when Clark burrowed closer to him.

“You’re so strong.”

“And you’re so heavy. I shouldn't have volunteered to take care of you."

“You don’t mean that.” Clark smiled then bit Bruce.

“JESUS CHRIST, KENT!”

 

#

 

Clark was dropped  unceremoniously onto his bed. He came down with a very loud thump.

“That wasn’t very nice, Bruce.” He pouted and watched as Bruce walked away. “Don’t leave!”

“I’m not.” Bruce came back with a pair of Clark’s pajamas. “Wear these.”

“Okay!” He started to strip. Why did he feel so conscious about nudity before? There’s nothing wrong with changing in front of people. Changing in front of Bruce was actually pretty great! He should’ve done it before. Why didn’t he do it before. He should do it all the time. Bruce should also strip. That’d be great. He’d have an unobstructed view of those really strong muscles. That amazing chest. Long legs. The possibilities!

His eyes widened as he realized he could look at them now! He had x-ray vision! But then that would be inappropriate. He didn’t want to violate Bruce’s privacy. Bruce was so very prickly about his privacy. He was the same, but right now who gives a shit about privacy.

Maybe he could get Bruce to take his clothes off if he asked nicely. He smiled at Bruce then, his eyes sparkling.

“Drunk Clark is shameless,” Bruce said very clearly amused.

Did he say his thoughts out loud? _Woops_.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’m going to the kitchen to get you some water.”

“But you’ll come back, right?”

“Yes, Clark. I’ll come back,” Bruce placatingly.

Once he was alone, Clark put on his pajamas and waited for Bruce patiently.

“Bruce!” Clark whined. “Come back!”

Like magic, Bruce appeared by in his room holding a glass of water.

“You’re back!” he cheered. “Yey!”

Bruce thrust the glass in his face. “Drink.”

Clark sipped at the glass.

“Hold the glass then drink,” Bruce instructed.

“Oh! You’re so smart.” Clark took the glass gratefully and drank. He was so thirsty. He didn’t even realize. Bruce was so nice; knowing what he needed before he did.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Bruce looked at him warily.

“You’re so handsome.”

“Thanks. So, are you."

Clark positively beamed.

“I think you need more water.”

Before Bruce could get up from the bed and leave, Clark was on him tugging him to lay down. “Don’t go.”

Bruce sighed. It was a long one. He then did something really amazing. He took off his coat and shoes then laid down on the bed making ample room for Clark to lay beside him.

He scrambled up and snuggled right to Bruce.

“How are you feeling, Clark?” Bruce asked putting an arm around his waist.

“Really great.” He smiled. “Is this how drunk people feel all the time? All light and buzzy?”

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” Bruce said. “If you remember any of it.”

“I’ll remember it,” he mumbled into Bruce’s very nice shirt.

“Should’ve known you’d be a happy drunk. It’d be a real pain if you were an emotional drunk or an angry drunk.” Bruce patted his head. “Less entertaining too.”

Clark hummed in agreement. He ran a hand down Bruce’s chest down to his stomach, he’d have gone further below the belt but Bruce grabbed his hand and put it firmly back up his chest.

“Handsy too,” Bruce said. “Nothing below the waist, _Boy Scout_.”

“For a playboy, you sure are a prude.” He poked at Bruce’s chest.

Bruce laughed. “I should take a video of this. Hold it over your head forever.”

“ _Bruce!_ ” he whined.

“All right, all right.” Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “Go to sleep.”

He snuggled up closer to Bruce and did what he was told.

Kind of.

He was still and kept his breathing even.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Clark.” Bruce carefully untangled himself from him.

He’d have protested but Bruce was quicker than him in this inebriated state.

“Sleep well.”

Bruce exited through the window quietly and Clark was left alone.

 

#

 

Clark missed Bruce immediately. He missed him terribly, then he had a great idea. The best idea ever. He should tell Bruce about it. That and all his other great qualities.

But maybe Bruce wouldn’t appreciate that. He didn’t like it when Clark paid him compliments about his intelligence and overall kind heartedness. He probably wouldn’t take kindly to saying he had a great face.

Hair.

Arms.

Abs.

Legs.

Ass.

Other places.

Definitely those other places.

He didn’t know what to do now.

Just thinking about Bruce made him want to do something! If he didn’t, he just might explode!

He wished there was a way to vent out his frustrations without Bruce knowing, but still feel like he’s telling someone.

Oh wait. He should tweet about it.

Brilliant!

 

#

 

After a few fumbling attempts Clark successfully made another Twitter account and started posting about Bruce’s everything.

He started getting likes almost instantly. He was happy people agreed with him and his appreciation of Bruce’s many attributes. And they were so very many.

Clark fell asleep with his phone on his face.

 

#

 

Clark woke up with the worst headache ever. He couldn’t remember everything that happened last night. All he knew was Bruce took him home and that was it.

He picked up his phone off his face and was surprised that it was flooded by so many notifications.

“Oh shit.”

 

#

 

He didn’t mean to be Twitter famous for his thoughts on how amazing Bruce's physicality was. He knew people made dumb decisions when drunk, but why did his have to be so goddamn embarrassing.

What made it all the worse was the fact that he couldn’t make himself delete the account.

He finally had somewhere to vent that wasn’t Lois. Lois who was getting sick and tired of him mooning over his best friend.

Drunk Clark probably did him a favor. He wasn’t harming anyone, and it looked like he found an audience.

How could this possibly go wrong?

Clark went about as usual. But now, he wrote tweets behind Bruce’s back about how maybe he’s in love with him and how he’s a little bit sexy.

Bruce is never going to find out anyway.

 

#

 

Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet, was going to meet up with Bruce Wayne, prince of Gotham, for an interview about his latest charity projects and maybe get some snippets about his personal life.

He was patiently waiting for Bruce because he was always so fashionably late at these professional meetings. When Bruce finally arrived, Clark’s breathe caught in his throat.

Bruce was wearing a bespoke suit without the tie with a few buttons undone. His hair stylishly swept back, and he walked with a confident ease. Clark knew Bruce would look like he just came out of a GQ cover, doesn’t mean he ever got used to it.

Before Bruce could reach the table, Clark quickly took his phone out and typed a quick tweet.

 

 

 ** _JohnDoe_** _@drumkenbumpkentr_ • _now  
__Bruce Wayne should step on me. Right now. Or whenever he’s free. I can make time. I’m very flexible_ _😉_

 

“Mister Kent,” Brucie greeted with a blinding smile. “Hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

“Not too long,” he smiled back.

 

#

 

Superman flew to the Batcave for his weekly Annoy-Bruce-Get-some-cookies-from-Alfred-Check-in-on-Batcow-for-Damian-visit.

Damian was sitting in front of the Batcomputer making him look comically tiny when he got there. It was adorable.

“Superman, finally.” Damian swiveled around and tutted in disappointed. Clark felt weirdly chastised even though he arrived earlier than usual. “Batcow needs your attention.”

That’s when Bruce came around behind them on a motorcycle. A fucking motorcycle.

Clark turned around and had a perfect view of Bruce’s side. Bruce was leaning forward his hands on the handle his legs stretched perfectly to showcase those powerful thighs.

“Um.” Superman blinked. “I think Alfred is calling me. I’ll be right back.”

Once he waa alone in the dining room he typed out a quick tweet.

 

 ** _JohnDoe_** _@drumkenbumpkentr_ • _now_

 _I bet bruce waynes thighs are the best pillows in the world._ _😩😩😩_

 

“Master Clark,” Alfred said. “I must say the cookies are not done yet. I thought you’d be downstairs longer.”

“Oh,” Clark startled. “I was just—uh— going to change clothes.”

“I see.” Alfred nodded clearly not believing his very obvious lie.

“I’m just going to go to do that now.” Superman fled to the nearest bathroom leaving a slightly confused butler.

In the bathroom right after he finished changing from his Superman suit and splashed some cold water in his face and after he told himself to _get it together,_ _Kent,_ Clark was ambushed by an angry ten-year-old.

"Kent!" Damian yelled. "Batcow and Jerry require your assistance now!"

"Damian, stop harrassing Clark," Bruce chastised coming up behind Damian.

"It's fine. I'm used to it," he joked.

"See, Father. He said he was used to it." Damian put his hands on his hips. "Chop chop, Kent. Jerry and Batcow have been waiting long enough."

Bruce shook his head but had a fond little quirk on his lips.

"Chop chop, Kent," Bruce teased.

Clark rolled his eyes but he was smiling.

 

#

 

Clark was sparring with Diana at the Watchtower gym. More accurately, he was getting his ass handed to him by an Amazonian Warrior Princess.

He didn’t want to blame his sloppy form and poor strategizing skills on anyone. But if he had to he’d blame Bruce, who was doing pull ups in the corner. Without a shirt. In short shorts. The man was sweating, breathing heavily, and goodness gracious those arms—muscles straining. Good heavens.

Diana swiftly punched him in the face knocking him to the ground.

He heard Bruce snort.

Great.

“You’re distracted, Kal.” Diana held out her hand to help him up. “Is something bothering you?”

“Just out of it, I guess.” He took the offered hand. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“You need to focus if you ever want to even get a hit on Diana." Bruce dropped down to the ground gracefully. "Or do you actually like getting punched in the face?"

“Thanks for the advice, B.” Clark cleared his throat.

Bruce crossed his arms which only accentuated his lovely arms and chest.

Clark was trying his hardest not to stare.

"How about you teach him some of your techniques?" Diana suggested. "What do you think Kal? A new perspective will be helpful, no?"

_Oh no. Definitely no._

"Um," he said.

Diana mistook his hesitation for something else and gave him a kind smile. "But I think you should rest first."

“Great idea, Diana. I'm going to go get some sun. If you’ll excuse me.” He made a hasty retreat.

“You’re going to need all the sun you can get,” Bruce yelled after him.

“Bruce, please,” Diana said probably shaking her head.

 

 ** _JohnDoe_** _@drumkenbumpkentr_ • _now  
__bruce wayne’s arms are my ideal man._ _💪_ _Strong, dependable, beautiful, can probably carry me me away from all my problems._

 

 

#

 

“Bruce, I can’t believe you actually attended that,” Clark teased with absolute glee.

“It was an event with fellow influential and notable individuals,” Bruce explained.

“No, it wasn’t.” He chuckled. “It was a party for celebrating People magazine’s top 100 sexiest people alive.”

“And isn’t being alive worth celebrating?” Bruce said airily in a very _Brucie_ tone.

“Oh, and I’m sure you being listed as number one for the fifth year in a row has nothing to do with it.”

“None at all.”

Clark wouldn’t have brought it up if it weren’t for some pictures circulating of Bruce at said party. Those pictures have been keeping him up at night and he hated it. As soon as Bruce Wayne was seated at that event someone sent him three pictures that ruined his entire life.

It was of Bruce looking absolutely decadent in his suit with one particular part of his anatomy very very prominent. Basically, someone sent him pictures of Bruce Wayne with that emphasized his bulge. There were so many of them and he blames Bruce’s suit. The suit didn’t have to be that suggestive and he knew Bruce knew what he looked like and he hated life.

Everyone on Twitter was tagging him and were scrounging up photos that proved that Bruce Wayne had a big dick. Clark had it on very good authority—his very own eyes— that Bruce was very blessed. Not to say of course, that he peeked. But there are times during medical emergencies or while in the locker room—the man had no problem with nudity—where he would get a glimpse.

So, he knew, and he was fine with that. Being reminded every time he goes on Twitter is not making it easy. As always, he vented out his frustrations the only way he knew how.

 

 ** _JohnDoe_** _@drumkenbumpkentr_ • _now  
__i want to live between bruce wayne’s legs. Send tweet._

 

 ** _JohnDoe_** _@drumkenbumpkentr_ • _now  
__Bruce Wayne doesn’t have big dick energy. He just has a big dick. Period. (not talking about his son)_ _🍆🍆🍆_ _💦💦💦_

**_JohnDoe_** _@drumkenbumpkentr_ • _now  
__what’s between bruce wayne’s legs? Can it be my face????_ _👅_ _👄_ _👀_

_#_

Everything was going well. Which probably should have tipped him off that everything was going to blow up in his face.

And it did.

But in the best possible way.

Two weeks after their little confrontation and reveal, Bruce and Clark were in the Manor’s master bedroom.

Bruce was on top of him grinning. “That was your best idea yet.”

“Wait until we get to the next one,” he said. He grabbed Bruce by the waist and turned them over, so he was lying on Bruce’s chest.

“Hey, do you still use your twitter?” Bruce asked nonchalantly. Or as nonchalantly as someone could after having multiple rounds of fantastic sex.

“No?” He blinked up at Bruce. “I mean ever since you found out and I can ogle you whenever I want there’s really no point.”

“So, you haven’t been online at all?”

“Why? Am I missing something important?”

“Oh, I just thought you’d want to know—” Bruce grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “—that Bruce Wayne has got a new obsession.”

“You didn’t.” He looked at his lover in disbelief. “I thought we’d keep me from the spotlight as long as possible. Posting thirst tweets about me is not keeping it discreet!”

“I’m not posting about Clark Kent,” Bruce explained with smuggest grin.

“Okay, posting about someone else isn’t better.” Clark frowned.

Bruce rolled his eyes and gave him the phone. “Just take a look.”

When Clark clicked the phone open he was greeted with a tweet on Bruce Wayne’s official account.

The tweet was a picture of Superman’s back without the cape focusing very clearly on his ass. What’s worse was Bruce’s caption which read:

 

 ** _Bruce Wayne_** _@BruceWayne_ ✔• _3h  
__Superman truly is out of this world. Every single part._ _🍑🍑🍑_ _🚀_ _🛰_ _🌎_ _🌠_ _☄_ _☀_ _Is this still counted as being bi or am I an #Extraterrestriasexual ?_

 

“Consider it pay back.” Bruce laughed as Clark looked at him jack slack and eyes wide.

“You’re unbelievable!” He hit Bruce with a pillow as he continued laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comment or kudos (maybe, both? idk get into the holiday giving spirit cmon jk hahaha)
> 
> hit me up on tumblr @robin-jasontodd or wherever else 
> 
> P.S.
> 
> if anyone's wondering why clark used John Doe and @drumkenpumkentr as name and handle, it's because his DrunkSelf wanted to stay as inconspicuous and mysterious as possible and that's the best fake name he could come up with and the handle is because he tried to spell drunkpumpkin but couldnt so he got that
> 
> Also, i realized that i messed up on the titles like it would be more appropriate for this to be parched and the first one be quenched but i never planned on writing this one, so we have to live with the jumbled up titles. My bad ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
